Fox Hall

[Dirty Chai]

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FOX HALL
The manor of Fox Hall originally belonged to the de Redvers family as part of Lambeth, before passing into the hands of one Falkes de Breauté, a knight and mercenary in the service of King John; It was known hence as Faulke's Hall, and then later as Fox Hall. It was sold into the possession of King Edward I, then granted to Roger d'Amory in 1317. By the early 1400's, the Baron Bardolf, who had inherited the manor from d'Amory, was attainted and his lands seized. In 1481, the manor was bought in sale from the crown by Henry Stafford, 2nd Duke of Buckingham, from Richard, Duke of Cloucester, who was Lord Protector.

[Dirty Chai]

A small, narrow pleasure barge is sailing up the Thames, edging closer and closer at a comfortable speed from the north bank down to the southern. Westminster's towers stand on the right in front. On the left is the enclosure of Lambeth, where the Archbishop of Canterbury goes about his personal life. Beyond it on the southern shore - being the left hand side - one imagines the manorial fief of Fox Hall. It is a muddy area - swampy in times of a high river or heavy rains - but occupies a prime location with regards to its position on the Thames and within riding distance of Lambeth. From the manor itself, one should be able to see the towers of Westminster still. Far behind the barge lies the quay-ed shoreline of London, littered with merchant's ships and the smell of both fresh and rotten fish.

The little fanciful boat's occupants are few in number, containing a man, his newly pregnant wife, and his young son. Some more ladies sit behind, followed by men in coats. A couple of bowmen sit at the rear of the deck, followed by the boatmen wearing clothes they normally could not afford. A little flag follows behind, carrying the man's differenced royal arms - a bordure argent.

"Yes, I gave the crown two thousand pounds for it," the man answered a question, unperturbed by the incredible cost, worth a small army.

[Oznerol]

"I need to go to the privy, dear, not hear your musings about property value nowadays"

She said with a grunt.

"Your son has me all day visiting the privy, I swear even a tiny cup of water makes me go twice in an hour"

The duchess was laying on several cushions. Her swollen belly was emphasized by the Burgundian gown.

"Oh God be merciful, will we arrive soon? I don't want to... expell my innards all over the barge either"

This pregnancy was plagued by vomit.

"Please dear, don't move the barge, mommy is sick"

[Dirty Chai]

"We're almost there," the duke said, grimacing out at the water ahead. They'd chosen to take the river because it seemed kinder to a woman so near childbirth, as opposed to rickety wagon or carriage ride - forget any horseback riding or any real amount of walking. So, the boat it was.

A six year old boy sat in the bottom of that boat now with his legs under him, unable to stay upright with his little legs and unable to sit on one of the seats with his small frame. He looked up worriedly at his mother. The husband was the next seat over from the pregnant wife, wearing a fur-trimmed overcoat and a little brimless cap.

"Soon we'll be out of the squalor," he said, as if he hadn't heard most of what she'd said. He tried to not engage her when she was .. as she was now. A swollen belly had made Catherine into an entirely different woman - both times. So much a difference that Henry found himself actually concerned about angering her - an unheard of worry otherwise.

[Oznerol]

"I hope so"

She was pale. Divided between the urge of peeing and puking.

"Is the house ready to move in? I don't want workers all day making a mess of my household and ruining my cabbages and emptying our larders. Oh god, how much I hate reforms"

[Dirty Chai]

The duchess had been living mostly under her sister the Queen Dowager's hospitality - at court - for Stafford, despite his means, only possessed a meager townhouse near the fishmarket in London - until now, of course. Though it was now clear that the duke himself would be staying more often than not in the Tower back down the Thames, due to his taking of the constabulary - which he told his wife was good for them both, being a post with much responsibility and prestige alongside his seat in the privy council - Catherine and his children and his household would now reside in Fox Hall.

He'd taken the careful time in the early months before the onset of summer to see about the hasty renovation of the place and the moving in of his own belongings - of which there weren't many old things, but mostly new furnishings brought in at great cost from as far as Flanders and Holland.

"Only if something breaks, Catherine. This place will be good. Plenty of open air. Away from the city. Close to the palace."

The structure itself was... quaint. But Henry had done what he could in short notice to patch up and freshen the place, eager as he was to move out of the Fishmarket Ward.

[Oznerol]

"I hope it doesn't stink, I wasn't used to the pestilent, fetid stench of your home"

She wrinkled her nose.

"I still don't know how you didn't have a decent residence here: you are a duke, aren't you"

Woodville is now even more pale, with a green hue, A large badge had passed by, creating waves that agitated the pleasure badge.

"Oh blessed Saint Catherine!"

[Dirty Chai]

The answer was that this Buckingham simply wasn't the same as the last, with his honours and estates much diminished by the time this one came of age. Presumably the old Buckingham's city assets had gotten lost in that process, being sold off or seized by landlords. One could likely thank Catherine's sister for all that.

"Well, I have one worth it no-"

The duke turned on his seat, half expecting his wife to expunge either vomit or else go into labor. After a moment of watching her with concern, he reached down and began to prod his son.

"Harry, move back by the ladies, will you? Good, son,"

He then resat himself in front of her, his legs placed where the boy sat before. His hands were clasped in front of him.

"This is why I got the manor," he tried to tell her, "I don't want my wife living under her sister's roof, and I certainly don't want any of us to live at Fishmarket." He'd lived there a bit as a child. Unpleasant place fit for merchants.

"Fox Hall is open, too." Stafford gestured at the woman's belly with a nod of his head. "It will be better for them too."

[Oznerol]

"What's the issue with myself living with my mother and sister?"

She said.

"You don't like them, don't you? My own mother, Harry"

The young Catherine crossed arms over her chest and belly, angry like a child, almost.

"I don't doubt Fox Hall is a good place, though..."

She granted, with a frown, again slightly child-like.

"Do I have my own solar?"

[Dirty Chai]

No, he didn't enjoy their company. Especially his sister in law. His mother in law was not so much of as Catherine's sister, the queen dowager. She'd hold this over him for favors, giving shelter to his wife and child, as if they weren't her kin. Or at least, that's what Buckingham imagined would happen.

"Sure, yes," he responded to the question of the solar. One of those rooms could be a solar, sure.

[Oznerol]

"I hope you brought few of those tapestries stored in Stafford, they would look lovely over these walls"

She was getting more animated and spirited. Like she had forgotten about being in a barge.

"Or I could go to the market and purchase whatever I see fitting for our new dwellings. I've heard there's a merchant with carpets brought from Babylon, can you believe it? From Babylon, Harry"

[Dirty Chai]

"No, I hadn't brought those," he wanted to be honest when he could be, "But we can afford new ones, so.."

Harry put his hands together, elbows resting on his knees. He began to circle a signet ring around and around, a habit he did when nervous or anxious.



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[Oznerol]

"Why are you nervous now?"

She said with a sigh.

"What happened?"

[Dirty Chai]

Harry hesitated, balking. Why ever would you impart such troubles upon a pregnant woman? One's own wife no less...

"It cannot be helped," he told Cath, "it's your sister."


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[Oznerol]

"By the blessed Saint Catherine!"

She rolled her eyes.

"Iswear to God that you sometimes nerve me. What's the matter now? I don't know why she exactly disgusts you so deeply. She is my sister, you know that, right?"

[Dirty Chai]

He ignored that. This was no small thing.

"The dukes," he meant Gloucester and Clarence of course, "seem to think she might use force of arms with your brother, to defy the king's will."

Violence. The implication was clear, too, for Buckingham was now constable of the Tower - at Gloucester's behest.


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[Oznerol]

"Good. I hope she does"

She said, flatly.

"Those two are . My sister is the king's mother, so, why not?"

Catherine tilted her head.

"I sometimes cannot understand what are you thinking. My sister would be regent! Isn't that great?"

[Dirty Chai]

He was silent at that. He'd said too much. Why'd he bother? His wife was a runt of the Woodville litter. Their affections were quite far and few between. They'd somehow resulted in two children, though.

Harry deflated a little, as if swallowing his thoughts and bottling it up inside his stomach, withdrawing from this conversation. Still, around and around the ring went. Gloucester was honorable, smart, good-natured. Clarence was likely as well. The queen meant well in some capacity for her son, he knew, but that meant well for no one but her own close kin and her pawns. Buckingham would've been one, likely, once.

[Oznerol]

"You're absolutely terrible, by the nails of Christ"

She wanted to push him from the badge, into the putrid Thames.

"I feel like I'm living with a man who absolutely despises or hates everything I love, like or want. I'm just the woman who carries your children, who could be anyone else. Literally anyone else. You don't care anymore. You could have married a sweet Lady Talbot or a Lady Percy or whatever, everyone would be better than me"

[Dirty Chai]

"That's not true.." he tried to defend himself, hushed and weak. Their son looked quite alarmed at the heightened voices and his mother's anger - though common it was now.

"I don't want to fight you," Harry said, trying to keep his voice at a calming tone. "Or your sister, that's the problem."